


Dreams and Deceit

by DommeA



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hope, Multi, Romance, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DommeA/pseuds/DommeA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after a second battle in the Valley of End, Naruto is comatose and Sasuke is dead. Where does this leave Sakura? In pursuit of the man responsible for her despair: Itachi Uchiha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Despair

Prologue: Despair

Sakura sat in the stale hospital room for the sixty-eighth day in a row. The fluorescent lights still burned with the same brightness and the machines still beeped at the same frequency. But, today was different because Tsunade said she had important news.

"'Important news' doesn't mean it's good news. Foolish as always, Sakura," Sasuke grumbled from where he leaned on the wall next to her.

Even if she knew he was right, she snapped, "Shut up."

As if they had been transported to an alternate universe, Naruto was the quiet one in the room. It would have been hard for him to talk with the feeding tube in, though. If he had been awake, the Naruto she knew would have certainly found a way to protest his dismal condition.

Instead, he lied in the hospital bed as unmoving as he had been for the past sixty-eight days.

Sakura had tried everything she was capable of in the first seven days—she denied sleep for a solid week by the use of caffeine and other stimulants just so that she could keep working on possible solutions. After that, though, Tsunade banned Sakura from working on him. She cited a conflict of interest, but they both knew that it was because of the toll the situation was taking on her sanity.

Who would be sane after losing both of her teammates in one day, though? If such a person existed, it certainly was not Sakura.

The door opened and Tsunade walked in. She looked grim for someone who had important news.

Sakura fidgeted in her seat and Sasuke shot her a knowing look. Sakura ignored him.

Tsunade closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed to gaze down at Naruto.

Without meeting Sakura's eyes, she asked carefully, "How are you feeling, Sakura?" Tsunade seemed uncomfortable, like someone trapped in a room with a starved wildcat that might pounce at any moment.

"How do you think I've been? I'm sick of these blanched walls, Sasuke is no encouragement, and Naruto hasn't shown any improvement," she replied with frustration cracking in her voice.

Tsunade grimaced, "Sakura…"

"I know, shishou." Sakura did know, but she just could not do anything about it. Her hallucinations were vivid enough that it was easy to forget that they were not real. So, instead, she accepted Sasuke's presence as real, even though she knew it was impossible—Sasuke could not be in the room when he was dead.

Now her teacher moved from Naruto's hospital bed over to the window away from where Sakura sat. Her body was angled toward the outside world, so her expression was a mystery as she prepared to share whatever news she had with Sakura. The Hokage's body tensed for a moment and then relaxed.

"Sakura, I've done all I can for Naruto," she shivered again before continuing in a hollow voice, "The Kyuubi is dormant and has wrapped Naruto's consciousness and chakra in a sort of…cocoon. I can do nothing to penetrate it—especially since I believe that the Kyuubi's protection may be the very thing keeping him alive," Tsunade's voice shook as she finished, "All we can do is wait…and hope he wakes up." Her shoulders were trembling now.

From Sakura's seat, the world warped in ways that should not have been possible: Naruto began to melt into his bed sheets, Sasuke's brows furrowed in manner that looked concerned, and the floor was inching closer toward Sakura's face. Now, it was so close that she could feel the cold, linoleum tiles pressing against her cheek—she had slid out of her chair and was lying on the floor. She found that it was impeccably clean under Naruto's hospital bed and noted that there was at least one pleasant thing about this whole situation.

Sakura's face was dripping with what she presumed to be tears and her chest felt like it was being hugged by a too-tight corset lined with metal spikes. It was an awful feeling, but the physical aspects were negligible compared to her mental anguish—she had no idea what to do with herself.

"N…n…n-no," Sakura sputtered. It held little meaning, but it was the only response she was capable of offering at the moment.

Tsunade crossed the room and sank to her knees next to her unrecognizable student.

Drawing her disciple's head into her lap, she coaxed, "I'm so sorry, Sakura…I'm so sorry." Recognizable or not, it seemed that Tsunade loved her all the same. She stroked the mussed, pink locks in her lap like one would do to console a distressed child. Sakura could hardly be regarded as a child after what she had gone through to end up collapsed on the cold, hospital floor, though—if she was not an adult prior to this moment, she certainly was one now.

"There has to be something I can do," Sakura cried out in despair. Her eyes were closed tightly, but tears still leaked out at the corners.

Tsunade seized the opening to say the hardest part of what she had come to tell Sakura. "You're right, Sakura. There  _is_  something you can do. There is something you  _will_  do. As your teacher and your Hokage…more importantly, as your family, I urge you to make today's visit to this room your last. What you can do is live your life—you can carve out a new path for yourself. Naruto would want it and you deserve it. Start a new life for yourself, Sakura."

Initially, she recoiled from her teacher's words and sat up with a startle. How could shishou propose such a thing?

"What are you saying, shishou? That I should just…give up on everything?!" Sakura demanded with accusation in her voice. Even Sasuke had his eyebrows raised from where he loomed against the wall.

Tsunade locked eyes with Sakura and then replied, "Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying."

Before Sakura retorted, she reminded herself that the Godaime knew the meaning of love and loss very well. Tsunade must have known the despair that she was experiencing. So, how could she ask such a thing?

As if Tsunade had been listening in on Sakura's mind, she spoke aloud, "It may not sound like it, but it's your best option." Now the Hokage lifted herself from the tiled floor, brushed her clothing into its proper position, and turned to walk out the door. Her hand was on the doorknob when she hesitated.

"Sakura, this is the most difficult order I'll ever give you as a shinobi of the Leaf. But you must follow it. Mourn for your teammates and for the love you've lost, but don't come back to this room. Consider Naruto as good as dead and move on with your life. Please…for your sanity. You've sacrificed enough for your team. Now you must use your strength to support yourself."

And with that, Lady Tsunade opened the door and left without another look at her wrecked student. On the surface, her gesture seemed callous, but it was really a sign that she was mourning the loss of Naruto—and the loss of her student. This moment was nothing less than elegiac for Sakura; she would remain effectively dead until she could find her place in the order of things again.

Sakura was left kneeling on the floor with a silent Naruto in the bed next to her and an apparition of Sasuke still leaning against the wall. Suddenly, she was the most capable member of Team 7. She had not seen Kakashi-sensei in five weeks, so maybe she was the only thing left of Team 7 at all. Sakura was the last bit of legacy remaining—it was her responsibility to save face for Sasuke's discretions and Naruto's haphazardness.

Leaning back on her palms, Sakura asked aloud, "Sasuke, how the hell did we end up like this?"

His eyes slid from the window to her face and he was silent for a moment longer.

"Fate, I guess," he responded as his eyes slid back to the window. He looked like someone who longed to go outside and enjoy the day—it was sunny out, after all.

Sakura grimaced and spat, "That's bullshit and you know it. Not even Fate would be this cruel. This was the result of an elaborate series of events. It could be nothing less than that."

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want to tell yourself, Sakura. All I know is that I'll never get to see my brother burn now." Under his folded arms, his hands were clenched into fists to convey the anger he felt at having gone too soon.

Sakura assessed him for a moment; she had not thought of his brother. She found that the thought of him caused her insides to bubble with anger. If all of Team 7's pain could be traced back to Sasuke and all of Sasuke's pain could be traced back to his older brother, then…Itachi seemed to hold an awful lot of responsibility in this situation.

"Don't, Sakura," Sasuke snarled, "My brother is my burden." He read her line of thought so easily.

She laughed. "He's your burden and you're dead. Your burden is my burden now," she added after nodding toward the bed, "And his burdens, too."

"You'll never compare to his skill. You'll just die a pathetic death if you even try to face him," he chided coldly.

Sakura felt inclined to believe him, but she was not ready to give up so soon.

"I'll train," she countered defiantly, "I'll train as much as I need to—hell, I'll train even more than I need to. Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

Sasuke snorted. "Oh, yeah? Simple training won't prepare you for everything Itachi has to offer. Just wait until he snares you with his tsukuyomi. Then you'll understand that it takes a lot more than 'training' to top the man who massacred the Uchiha clan."

"…What do you mean?" Sakura inquired, feeling slightly put-out.

"It's a jutsu of pain designed for your mental undoing," he clarified.

Sakura pondered this for a moment. She knew that she should have been terrified, but instead, she found herself intrigued: Sakura had already been "mentally undone." What could possibly be more painful than what she had already experienced?

Sensing reason for her silence, Sasuke sent her a scathing glare. "Don't be an idiot, Sakura. Look at where that got Naruto."

The tsukuyomi could be more agonizing than this? Sitting in a hospital room with one teammate in a coma who was unlikely to ever wake up and the other present as a mere hallucination? Surely not; such claims sounded absolutely absurd. Even physical agony paled in comparison to the heartbreak of having loved and lost the two people she held most dearly.

"If he uses the tsukuyomi, I'll be ready," Sakura laughed emptily, "I'd love to see what kind of pain it must offer if it's worse than all of this. Ha! What a farce."

Sasuke's face grew dark as he warned, "Itachi is not to be underestimated, Sakura. And that goes for his jutsu, too."

"Maybe I just have a death wish," she quipped without humor. It was meant to be a cold joke, but she had always thought that most jokes held some honesty.

Her illusory teammate opted not to respond and that was fine because she probably would have ignored it anyway. Instead, she lifted herself from the floor and walked over to Naruto's bed to say goodbye to her beloved teammate. If he never woke up, this would be her last time seeing him until his eventual funeral. She just had to place her hope in the knowledge that Tsunade would do everything within her power to help Naruto wake up. But, she also knew that she needed to be prepared if the day when he woke up never came.

Naruto's sunny face no longer possessed its usual vitality. The breathing and feeding tubes looked more like soul-drainers than life-sustainers. Even his wild, golden hair had come to be matted to his head. She reached out a hand to caress his cheek.

"Please come home, Naruto. Even if it's years from now. Just please…come home," Sakura begged through a surge of silent tears. She did not want to write him off as dead, but she also understood that such a mindset was the exact reason why her teacher's orders were for her own good.

"I won't be visiting anymore," she continued, "But I won't forget about you. You're truly the best teammate I could've ever asked for. Thank you so much for everything."

With tears dribbling from her eyes, she leaned down and planted a kiss on Naruto's forehead. Sakura knew that she could not handle this much longer; if she stayed another moment, she might be consumed by her own grief and madness.

After giving her teammate a final, meaningful look, Sakura turned around and strode toward the door. With only the slightest hesitation, she left her hallucinations of Sasuke and her hopes for Naruto behind in the washed-out hospital room.

Sakura would train now and continue for years if necessary. No matter what she would be forced to endure, Sakura would accomplish everything necessary to prepare herself for facing Itachi Uchiha.


	2. Chapter 1: Misconceptions

Itachi stood across the clearing, his midnight hair gently lifting from his face with the breeze. He was so dark that he stood as a shadow even in the brilliant, noonday sun. This man looked so soft and so lonely, but he was proof that looks are often deceptive in an injurious way to the perceiver. Itachi was nothing less than lethal. He had such a blood-soaked reputation that only the insane would actively seek his company.

As Sakura had long since descended into the depths of madness, she spent the last five years training for this moment. Every drop of sweat shed by her pores and every ounce of blood dripped by her cuts were sacrifices for this battle. Regardless of her preparation, she was no fool: Sakura knew well that this would be the fight of her life or the fight of her death. Even if it was a possibility, she was not interested in settling for the latter.

In her mind, losing was not an option. She had been in direct pursuit of this stone-hearted demon for over two years now. Even if it was by the nature of ripple effect, he was at fault for the event of her undoing. Itachi was a puppeteer who had strung his marionette of a brother down a path of destruction: Sasuke's life had been a candy trail of self-loathing and shattered friendships all laid out by his older brother. Itachi was the perpetrator of this grief.

When she told people why she trained so hard, they laughed and replied, "But don't you specialize in genjutsu, honey? You'll be useless against him. I mean, he uses the sharingan. You should dedicate your time to working in the hospital more." That was alright, though. Sakura had stopped honing her affinity for genjutsu a long time ago, anyway.

The lack of faith in her skills was something that had not changed since her early childhood; over time, she became indifferent to it. With Sasuke dead, Naruto silenced by a coma with no foreseeable end, and Kakashi withdrawn into the depths of guilt, Sakura learned to train on her own. When help was necessary, she consulted with Tsunade. Otherwise, she learned from books, practice, and creativity.

As Sakura stood there in the empty space that would become their battlefield, she knew that she should have been more excited. Instead, no matter how hard she tried, she found her thoughts governed by apathy. The many years of training had emptied her heart and hardened her head. She should have been thrilled, overwhelmed, or nervous—this fight would consummate all of her efforts. But, regardless of how Sakura  _should_  have felt, she knew that her current state-of-mind was preferable for the task ahead: she was here to win and her stoic mindset would enable that.

Justice would reign on this day. This wretch would pay for his vile sins. Surely, he would not beg for his life and he would not show his pain, but he would  _feel_  it. She did not need a display of agony to be satisfied—she simply needed knowledge of its presence.

Sakura turned her attention to her foe; he seemed to be waiting for her to do something. Perhaps he was unsure of her malicious intentions or maybe he was just another skeptic who decided that she did not warrant his interest. Either way, Itachi was her enemy.

With the empty, but perceiving eyes of a reanimated corpse, she announced, "This is the day that a great prodigy shall fall to never rise again."

At these words, his head shot up and his coal eyes narrowed. Still, he waited for her to take action—and so she complied. Without hesitation, she clapped her hands together in front of herself like a cymbalist and folded down all of her fingers except the pointers. Onlookers would probably be confused, as a normal person would not be able to see what she was doing. However, a trained viewer could see that a slice of air raced out from those fingers and speared in the direction of the man's heart.

This would not do the job, but it would certainly force him to come out and play. The ground where he had been standing exploded into a cloud of dust as her jutsu made contact. Without waiting to see the results, she lifted her leg into the air and slammed it down onto the ground to lay out the limits of their battlefield. As planned, an enormous crater spread from the focal point of where her heel had stricken the earth; trees, rock, and shrubbery shook as her damage shattered the foundation of the landscape.

The subsequent mini-earthquake sent oversized debris flying into the air. Once the earth finished its trembling, these pieces came crashing down as quickly as they had ascended. Using her gloved fist, she shattered a chunk of stone before it could crush her. Then, she folded her arms over her eyes to shield them from the resulting bits showering down onto her hair and into the crevices of her clothing.

When Sakura lowered her arms to inspect the premises, she found Itachi standing directly in front of her. Seemingly unruffled by the grand display of her strength, he still wore his default mask of stoicism. As she assessed the short distance between them, Sakura smirked like a hungry vulture smiling upon its prey: close-ranged battles were her specialty, after all.

Wasting no time, he took the offensive and stepped on the ankle that had not moved since using it to kick a crater into the earth. He quickly followed up his first attack by launching his fist into her gut while he had her trapped.

Sakura cackled as if she were watching a bad comedy: she had been stomped on and punched much harder by her fierce teacher. To her, this man's taijustsu was like a combination attack of a tickle and a poke—hilariously ineffective.

Her grin did not falter as she grabbed ahold of the wrist sinking into her stomach and leached a poisonous jutsu into his chakra system. Itachi went wide-eyed and silent just before melting into a cloud of cawing ravens.

A clone. Her eyes narrowed and she sent out a backward kick. To her surprise and satisfaction, she felt cloth brush up against that foot—she had almost landed a deadly blow. Sakura spun around to face him and, as expected, there Itachi stood in all of his repugnant glory.

"Who are you?" he asked.

She sneered, "A girl who doesn't enjoy small-talk." His sharingan flashed on and he jumped backward.

Slipping into stance, she punched the air in front of her and sent out of a wave of tornado-like winds. It whipped his velvet hair in every direction, but did not shake his posture.

Suddenly, Itachi stood to her right and stated, "I don't know you." The winds died down.

"Ah, yes. But I know all about you," she smiled wistfully, and then specified, "Kakashi told me quite a bit of useful information. And I had to deal with a particular someone pissing and moaning about you at every chance. Really, I know you well enough that you could be my best friend."

Sakura decided to be upfront about her desires. Knowing the bizarre nature of her request, an ill-begotten smirk spread across her face like a staph infection—she would bet that he had never heard anything like this before.

She leaned in with her eyes fixed on his and hissed, "Use it, I dare you. Take me to the land of the dead, the place so miserable that even the devil cries, where angels turn to dust and souls are sucked out of the mouths of the living. Take me to the place where there is no sufficient metaphor for pain—there's just pain." She allowed a weighty pause before finishing, "Show me the terror of the tsukuyomi."

His chest grew full, his cheeks puffed out, and then a large ball of fire came roaring in her direction. She flipped to the side to dodge and the flame darted on past her, continuing on its path into the distance. She guessed that he had used it to further stretch the distance between them.

"Are you afraid to use it? Or am I so weak that you would be putting your mighty skills to waste?" she called with contempt and challenge dripping from her words.

An unkindness of ravens flew overhead. Her knees collapsed inward under sudden pressure and he stood in front of her, offering her a hand up. Not her opponent, but _him_. He looked as lovely as he always had; but he looked just as algid as he always had, too.

She sighed heavily—she was tired and he was dead.

"Kai."

The world un-warped to its rightful appearance and he was no longer there. He was never there to begin with because it was only genjutsu.

Her laughter rang. It was a mere imitation, though—it lacked the heartiness vital to laughter's true sound.

"Can your  _special_  eyes search my soul to pit my deepest desires against me? Or do you just have a developed intuition? I bet you get your jollies from making girls cry; too bad you're out of luck today." Her sarcasm held plenty of bite.

Suddenly, a wall of black fire sprung up between them. She had been warned about this—this was serious. However, she quickly noticed something strange about the situation: her opponent had disappeared. He should be watching her from a perch of safety and smirking as the flames engulfed and smothered her. He should be resting comfortably as his art melted off her skin until there was nothing left of her but ashes.

This fire was just a distraction—Itachi was up to something else. But, the amaterasu was not a circumstance that could just be ignored. Sakura would have to play his game in the meantime.

"Welcome to hell," his disembodied voice echoed in her head.

She knew that she was going to have to do something drastic to escape her current predicament. The unnatural flames crept closer to her with each passing moment. Unwilling to waste more time, her eyebrows furrowed and she quickly formed a lengthy series of hand seals. With her last seal, everything began to tremble—the earth beneath her feet and the air around her body subtly shivered.

One short second was all it took for her jutsu to form an earth cover over the angry flames. As quickly as it arose to cover the fire, it swallowed the heat back down into the planet's crest. Once completed, the ground mended itself as if it had never been disturbed; even the trembling ceased. Most importantly, however, the amaterasu had been completely consumed.

Scanning the premises, Sakura found that her opponent was still missing. This left only one option: she jumped backward. As she jumped, a fist popped out of the ground from where she had been standing—following that fist was a body.

Without hesitation, her hand reached out, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward her. She then seized his vulnerable moment and jabbed her knee into his stomach. The hand in which she held his arm clenched and his bones cracked beneath her grip.

Their eyes met.

Her heart raced.

Nothing happened—he continued to deny her request.

He pulled out of her grip and hopped backward until he felt secure with the distance between them. He seemed to recognize that any more closed-ranged combat with her would be hazardous for his wellbeing.

Uninterested in waiting tamely for his next move, she flung kunai in his direction. As expected of the prodigy, he easily dodged each one as it came. Sakura found that she was not quite as lucky—blades from behind ripped through her clothing and dragged across her back.

The swallowing earth jutsu had drained her chakra reserves significantly and, in turn, had also lowered her vigilance. This fight was quickly becoming dangerous.

The open wounds on her back burned with a fierceness that harkened ill news—those daggers had been poison-tipped. She had to act fast before she ended up in comatose or, more likely, dead. Closing her eyes, Sakura concentrated her chakra around the cuts and worked to push out the toxins.

As she maneuvered the intruding substance out of her bloodstream, she found herself wishing that she had been born to the Hyuuga clan—X-ray vision would be incredibly helpful while fighting an Akatsuki member with her eyes closed. She brought her awareness to its maximum level, but she knew that it would not be enough to stop Itachi if he decided to land a swift and fatal blow.

" _Vigilance_ ," she mentally reminded herself. Considering that she had not been dismembered in the few seconds that her eyes were sealed shut, there was an infinitesimal chance that he was giving her a personal moment. The more likely reason that Sakura was still alive, however, was that he was waiting for something—and that was enough to make anyone uneasy.

As soon as she was certain that the poison had been expelled from her body, her eyes popped open to meet the swirling red of her opponent's irises. His face was mere inches from hers—Sakura's adrenaline kicked into overdrive. He was finally going to appease her previous demands; he was giving in and he was going all-out.

Her heart began to beat erratically in anticipation. She knew it would be painful and that it would certainly leave behind a mental agony so powerful that it might drive her to suicide, but she wanted to experience it. Sakura needed to walk through the land of the dead in order to know that she was still alive.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Itachi whispered. His face was so close to hers that his breath caressed her cheeks. It was comforting compared to the anguish that was surely about to envelop her.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Absolutely."

A heavy moment of silence passed.

"It's most unfortunate that," he paused, "in these tedious lives we're forced to live that we don't receive everything we want."

Just as the last utterance floated past his grim lips, he disappeared from sight. It happened so quickly that, in the brilliant sunshine, Itachi's shadowy presence might have never really been there at all. She would have thought that she had dreamt it all if she had not been surrounded by the remaining debris to tell her otherwise.

As Sakura stood amid her own wreckage, time wandered aimlessly. It passed her by as she gazed into her inner abyss, not quite thinking, breathing, moving, or even feeling. All she knew was that she had just watched years of focus and training vanish; she should have known that such things were evanescent.

Life and purpose warped in her mind. They warped into spoken words, laboriously pressing against her lips.

"Perhaps…perhaps when I said 'prodigy,' I was referring to myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everybody! 
> 
> A


	3. Chapter 2: Query and Purpose

She wanted to scream. Every cell in her peritoneal cavity vibrated in resentment at her self-control—even her organs hated her.

            She was left with nothing: no feelings, no direction, and no purpose. Her being wavered on the edge of existence. Sakura floated through this wretched purgatory alone.

            Itachi was long gone and with him he took all that had been left of her. Perhaps he meant to stow it away with everything else of hers that he had stolen. After all, he had unwittingly robbed her of her hope, her innocence, her love, and her friends. Over time, he had carved out her insides and left her nothing more than an empty shell of her former self.

            But what would she be giving up on?

Her mission?

Her efforts?

Her life?

Herself?

            Her attempt to kill the demon had been thwarted by her fixation on experiencing the tsukuyomi first. She could have killed him at any point when they were at close range throughout the battle. Instead, she foolishly decided to draw out the entertainment and wait patiently for him to use his ocular jutsu.

Now she was here with nothing.

She could continue to hunt him down for the next several years until she found him again, but really, would it be worth it? Would she just be denied the tsukuyomi time and again?

            So much confusion and self-loathing poisoned her thoughts that she began to feel physically ill. Sakura hated it and herself and _everything_. She wanted to scream and break every bone in her own body just to sit through the painstaking labor of healing herself. Sakura wanted to feel something for the sake of knowing that she was alive and present and tangible.

            “I have nothing… I am nothing.” She looked at the palms of her dirty, gloved hands.

            She could hear herself, so perhaps that was a start. And was living with nothing not the sacred and respected way of monks? If Sakura were optimistic, she could possibly be on the cusp of spiritual enlightenment. But instead of feeling clement, her soul just felt parched.

            Sakura touched her lips together and then parted them the minimal amount to speak.

She announced to the abandoned world around her, “I need to reconcile with myself.”

            But what did that entail? She could return to Konoha and meditate for every waking hour she had available. Or maybe she could go home and start gardening—she always imagined that as a peaceful hobby. Perhaps she could go back and simply give away everything she owned; she could start from scratch.

            No matter how many ideas Sakura ran through, she rejected each of them as quickly as they came. There was an unappealing flavor to each one; they shared something distasteful. After a moment of consideration, she realized that there _was_ a common fault involved in each of them—and that was _going home_.

            Sakura needed to get away from everything and that included her hometown. Suddenly, heavy understanding sunk like a dense weight in the acidic sea of her stomach, and it was not because she would miss Konoha. After all, her Will of Fire had faded a little more each time she visited Naruto’s shell until it had completely burnt out.

Instead, the sick feeling came from what she would become when she did not return: a missing nin. She would be labeled a wanted criminal, probably of the S-rank, with bounties amounting to fortunes on her head. It would break Tsunade’s heart to order such things against someone she considered a daughter.

            Legalities aside, this was what she needed to do. She would leave her everything that equated to nothing behind. She would wander in the wilderness and stop in small towns. The only things she would bring were her objectives: to fall under the tsukuyomi and then to survive to kill the perpetrator. These simple and clear-cut objectives were all she needed.

            The idea sounded so splendid that a smile twitched onto her face. Not in a rush, but not wanting to wait around, she lifted herself into an alert posture and began to walk—not run—in the direction of the dense forest leading her to the mountains. Sakura was on her way to a new life.

 

 

            After three days of wandering through the wilderness, Sakura decided to gather some kindle, start a fire, and use the forest floor as a bed for another night. Civilization would still be there tomorrow. Plus, even if she was now a missing nin who was running the risk of attack by random shinobi in the forest on missions, her body could not afford to keep going any longer today.

The fire flickered in every direction and casted looming shadows over her through the night. It was eerie, yet peaceful. It felt as if she was resting amongst the dead because of the silence, but everything around her was alert and alive. This environment was one conducive to contemplation.

            Sakura thought back to Itachi’s face as his mouth formed the words, “ _It’s most unfortunate that in these tedious lives we’re forced to live that we don’t receive everything we want_.”

            Unfortunate indeed.

            Did he refuse to use his eyes simply to spite her? Itachi probably could have won if he had used them. In fact, he could have won at several points throughout their battle—like when she was faced with the amaterasu or when she had her eyes closed to focus on expelling the poison. Why did he pass up those opportunities to dispose of his opponent?

Conversely, she knew that she could have killed him, too. She _knew_ her own reasoning, though. She opted not to shatter his hardened frame during close combat for the hopes of glimpsing the inside of the tsukuyomi.

Why would he let her get away when it was clear that her intent was to take his life? If he used his amaterasu, then he perceived her to be a threat, at least.

Was her intent really clear even to herself, though? If there were moments when she could have won, why did she not take advantage of them? Sure, she desired the tsukuyomi, but he had a debt to pay that went far deeper than just that—he owed her his life. To experience the tsukuyomi was a fanciful whim whereas his debt was concrete, steep, and _real_.

Was the pain offered by the tsukuyomi really worth more than the revenge of her team?

Even if Itachi probably had no idea, he was the source of her loneliness and loss. He altered the course of Fate when he massacred his family—it sent a ripple effect through Team 7 and beyond. He deserved nothing less than a painful death.

But, if he was still alive, was Sakura as steadfast in her resolution as she previously believed herself to be?

            All of this wonder and uncertainty left only one thing truly clear: Sakura knew very little about herself. She knew the past, but understanding it was an entirely different objective. There was a core to her true self that had gone undiscovered for twenty-one years—a part that she had ignored and casted away. Instead of examining her inner self, Sakura had always focused on putting her teammates first.

In contemplative retrospect, she had deemed much of herself secondary to the health and success of her teammates. At the time, it was easier for her to scorn herself than make an effort to understand the logical reasoning behind her foolish actions and the selfish calculations behind her heroic ones.

Sakura had spent her whole life denying her own individuality.

            Even though she believed she was strong, she did not _know_ it. That was part of why she went after Itachi. She blamed him for so much—no, she blamed him for everything. For every weakness she felt and every tear she cried, she had labeled him as instigator.

            _“Who are you?”_ —and yet, he did not even know who she was. In all honesty, despite her years of researching his abilities, connections, history, and whereabouts, she did not really know him either. Itachi was only a name with no structured face to match it. He was just a list of jutsu, crimes, weaponry, locations, and bounties; he was a collection of data.

            Sakura now knew what she wanted to do: she needed to fix the part of herself that was broken. As part of fixing herself, she needed to speak to that man—even if it would inevitably be done over clashing of steel and fists. She needed to better understand the source of her suffering before she killed him.

            She needed to speak to him, even if it would be her end.


	4. Chapter 3: Pleasant Surprise

**Chapter 3: Pleasant Surprise**

When she awoke, she had leaves in her mouth and the sun in her eyes. The chill of the night was fading as the warm daytime moved in to replace it. Her back twined in resentful agony as she tried to sit up—the cold forest ground had not been kind to her spine throughout the night. Ignoring the sharp pain across her back, she sat up, stretched her arms, and lifted herself from her dirt bed.

The sun was lovely and the area was clear. Even better, no one had noticed her throughout the night—she had managed to stay off the radar for another night as a missing nin.

Sakura wondered where she should restart her search for Itachi. Who knew where he might be now? Probably digging up a new hidey hole somewhere in Suna or taking a vacation on a remote island. After all the years that it took for her to locate and battle him, he was hidden in the fog again.

Before descending into pessimism, Sakura reminded herself, " _You've had a lot of practice in tracking his movements. Now, it'll be even easier to track him because you're able to step outside of Konoha and search with your own eyes and ears instead of waiting for unreliable whispers of his whereabouts. You've spent five years preparing for this_."

He was inevitably conspicuous whenever he passed through towns, so if she was lucky, she could head to the nearest village and see if the people there may have heard something that would be useful to her. Hopefully, her inquiries would not draw too much attention to herself and she could move onto the next town without arousing suspicion.

Suddenly, a grumble of hunger interrupted her thoughts. Deciding that biology could not wait, she paused to open her pack and then took down a few food pills with a swig of water from her jug. Now that she had been fed and watered, she decided that she was ready to go.

Embarking into the dense forest, she kept herself on high alert in case Tsunade had decided to call her a traitor by now. It would be more likely that Tsunade would extend the allotted time before labeling her a missing nin, but she could not rely on her former closeness with the Godaime to save her from the consequences of her actions.

Sakura wandered for a few hours before signs of civilization cropped up throughout the forest—worn trails, occasional farm supplies, and some cut down trees. It was a relief to know that she was headed in the right direction. The trees seemed to be thinning, so she quickened her pace. Soon enough, Sakura found herself on someone's farm property.

Shit.

Her eyes scanned the premises for a house with hopes that she could politely knock on the front door and ask for directions. If she did that, it might make her illicit presence seem a bit less out-of-place. Fortunately, her pink hair made her look fairly innocuous, so perhaps she would not trigger any rumors within her first few days as a missing nin.

She noticed a small wooden house not far from where she stood and used chakra to sprint faster than the untrained eye could see to its front door. Looking down at herself, Sakura took a moment to smooth out her clothes and hair, adjust her bag, and gather the nerve to knock gently on the plain wooden door.

_Knock knock_.

Even her knock sounded timid and tentative. That was good, though—she wanted the people she encountered to think of her as weak and un-noteworthy. She heard the hollow sound of footsteps on floorboards from inside and quickly straightened herself. While it was vital that she did not arouse suspicion, she also hoped to glean some useful information from whoever was inside.

An elderly woman opened the door just enough to peek her face out and announced, "You're the second young'un to knock on my door this week. You seem nicer than the other boy, though—he had an aura so dark that I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he'd been born from the bowels of hell themselves. What do you need, child?"

Before she could even part her lips to respond, she was preemptively cut off by the woman who interjected, "Wait a minute, now! You have…pink hair?! Oh, sweet heavens. Child, you are in trouble. So young 'n' you have the son of the Devil out searchin' for you. Come inside and have a cup of tea before you see the end of your days."

Sakura stood there too stunned to move. Someone was searching for her already? It seemed too soon for Tsunade to have sent out a search party. But who else would be looking for her? This was completely unexpected.

After a moment's contemplation, Sakura decided it would be best to accept the invitation inside and find out a bit more about the person who had terrorized this poor woman in search of her pink hair. Even if it might have been a trap, it did not sit well with her that people were scaring old ladies in pursuit of her.

"My name is Marion, dear. Make yourself at home," the elderly woman insisted.

Marion led her inside and urged her to sit down at a sturdy wooden table in the kitchen. The woman retrieved a mug from the cupboard and set it in front of her. With the sound of hot tea hitting the bottom of the cup, the silence was broken. The elderly lady sat down and it was clear that their mutual interrogation was about to begin.

"Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, what did this boy look like? I just can't fathom who would be out for my blood like this. I'm very sorry that he came and frightened you while in pursuit of me," Sakura apologized with unforced genuineness.

The old lady furrowed her eyebrows in distress and then explained, "He looked handsome enough, so I welcomed him inside without hesitation. It's pleasant to get visitors every now 'n' then. He had black hair 'n' nice black eyes to go with it—not the scary kind, but the comfortin' kind. Then, the next time I looked at him, those same eyes were swirling with the angriest red I'd done ever seen. I swear, he made my heart stop 'n' added another ten years onto my age with just that look.

"Then, he demanded to know if I'd seen a young woman with pink hair. He said he had important business with you 'n' we both know that that can mean nothin' good. When he was satisfied with me swearin' that I hadn't seen you, he stomped on out in an angry fit frightenin' enough that I thought he'd break the china in my cabinets. He is a force to be reckoned with, child. Those eyes stare straight into your soul."

Sakura knew what eyes Marion was referring to—it could be none other than the sharingan. It did not seem like he had used the Tsukuyomi on her, but it sounded like his behavior was traumatizing enough.

Why was Itachi searching for her, though? It still did not make any sense.

"Do you remember what time it might have been when he came by?" Sakura inquired.

"Of course, dear. It was the dark of night 'n' I thought that he might've been needin' a place to stay for the evenin'. With eyes like that, though, I doubt that a few shadows 'n' howls could scare him…" the woman trailed off and then asked with hesitation, "What's your name, child? I can understand if you don't want to tell, but it gets lonely livin' outside of the village…you might be the last friendly visitor that I see in all of my days." The meaning of her last words carried a heavy weight.

Sakura took a moment to assess the dangers of revealing her identity, but quickly concluded that her hair would give her away no matter where she went. Additionally, saying who she was had the added benefit of seeing if the woman recognized her as being on the missing nin list.

"Ma'am, my name is Sakura Haruno. My hair is like cherry blossoms, after all," she revealed with a small smile.

"Thank you, dear," the woman smiled as her withered hand grabbed one of Sakura's gloved ones with a reassuring squeeze, "You can stay the night, if you'd like. I imagine you'll be hoppin' from place to place with a man like that after you."

"I can't stay, but I appreciate the offer. Could you possibly send me off in the direction of the nearest town, though? My hair may be conspicuous, but I'll wear a hood to cover it. There's no need to worry about me," Sakura consoled. She was lying, of course, because she  _wanted_  to be found. She just felt that she did not need to give the elderly lady who had been so hospitable more reason to worry. If Tsunade had not begun to search for her yet, she would do as she pleased in the meantime.

"But you don't have a hood on your dress, dear! Let me give you a cloak if you really must be goin'. It's hangin' right by the door, so you can grab it on your way out," the woman urged.

Sakura rose from the table and the elderly woman joined her. They walked to the entrance of the house where she threw a black cloak of fine quality over Sakura's shoulders—it would certainly keep her warm during the coldest nights and dry in the soggiest weather. Plus, it seemed that wearing a mysterious black cloak was the final step to becoming a true missing nin, so why not go all the way?

The woman opened the door and pointed toward a worn trail that started about twenty feet from the doorway.

"You can take that trail straight into town. It's a long walk for someone of my age, but it'll probably feel short to a spritely young woman such as yourself. But, you take care now. If you ever find yourself down this way again, feel free to knock on my door. Just give me a flash of your pink hair 'n' I'll recognize you in an instant! If you find yourself in a bind, remember that my home is yours, Sakura."

Sakura drew the frail, little Marion into an embrace and then said upon release, "Thank you for all of your hospitality. I won't forget your kindness."

With a small wave and a bigger smile, Sakura headed down the trail Marion had specified. She hoped never to need to take the elderly woman up on her offer, but it was nice to know that she could if she needed a place to hide out.

As she walked away from the farmhouse, her mind wandered back to what information she had gained from this encounter. A man with black hair and the sharingan was looking for her that night—it would have been after her battle earlier that day. Perhaps something happened during the exchange that sparked Itachi's interest? He fit Marion's description, after all.

Two facts stood out from Marion's story: he was looking for her and he knew to not look in Konoha. The latter bit brought some relief, as that meant that Konoha would be safe from his wrath, but the former still left her baffled.

As confused as Sakura was, it was convenient that each of them was pursuing the other—this would make their next meeting happen sooner than she would have ever expected. Although the wounds on her back had not yet fully recovered, she felt more prepared than ever to meet him face-to-face. She had fought him and lived to tell the tale. From that encounter, Sakura was able to glean some important information about his fighting style while keeping a few tricks of her own out of sight. If anything, that battle had been a scouting mission for the real thing.

Sakura's excitement expressed itself as a lick of her lips followed by a sunless smile. She yearned to converse through the exchanges of blows that they would surely share.

The only remaining member of the Uchiha clan was looking for her; she would find Itachi Uchiha much sooner than she had expected.


	5. Chapter 4: Chase

Even though night was drawing near, the town was still bustling with life. Sakura watched the crowd from a bench to single out seedy characters and observe which direction they headed—the ugliest parts of town always had the best information. She had seen a series of work-worn men and women head to her right, so she figured that direction would be a safe bet.

            As she walked, the alleyways became darker and the scent of alcohol penetrated the air—Sakura was definitely in the right place. The people she passed by looked tired, but tough, and many were probably ninja. Now that these fine folks led her to the right part of town, she had to determine which of these upstanding institutions was an information den where secrets could be exchanged over beer and hard liquor.

            Sakura scanned the bars nearby. One stood out as the darkest—with its shoddy exterior, it was likely a place where bounty hunters and criminals passed time together.

Since she was still unsure if her name had a bounty attached to it, she debated whether she should wear her hood while inside or not. There were pros and cons to both scenarios.

After a few moments, Sakura quickly concluded that she should put her locks in the open at some point throughout the evening, but keep them under the hood until the time was right. The person who was searching for her identified her by her pink hair. Therefore, it would benefit Sakura if she displayed it as a test to whether or not he had people on the lookout for her. If the scenario arose in which people hunted her for Tsunade, she could handle the fight.

            She strode toward the entrance, opened the rickety door with confidence, and walked inside of the crusty, dark bar. Sakura examined the crowd before deciding what to do next—it was filling up with all kinds of characters. From her quick analysis, it was clear that she had hit the jackpot. With a shit-eating grin on her face, she made her way to the bar to chat with the tender and buy a shot or two—Tsunade passed on more than one of her hobbies to her dedicated disciple.

            “Hey, bartender. Two shots of vodka this way,” Sakura requested in a falsely gruff voice. Her hood was still on, so she intended to play the mysterious stranger until she shrugged it off.

            He slammed two shot glasses onto the counter in front of her and filled them to the brim. That was a sure sign of good character in Sakura’s book. The more alcohol she had, the happier she was.  

            He leaned on the counter in front of her and remarked, “I haven’t seen you around before.”

            Sakura downed her first shot with a slight grimace and then lifted her second only for it to disappear as quickly as her first—there was nothing quite like chasing hard liquor with more hard liquor. After years of practice, she had come to enjoy the alcohol’s sickly burn.

            “I’m normally skeptical of newbies, but I like the way you drink. Welcome to my bar. Is there anything I can get for you?” he inquired. This was her cue. Sakura took her hand out of her bag and held it out for a handshake—he would feel her money there and know that she meant nothing but business.

            He grinned broadly as he shook her gloved hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in the back corner. There’ll be a man sitting there in a cloak similar to your own who’ll be able to help you out.”

            “It’s been a real pleasure,” she said in her deepest voice.

            Sakura lifted herself from her barstool and found that the bar had filled up even more during her exchange. She would have to nudge a few people out of the way to make it to her destination—or so she thought. Instead, people naturally moved out of her path as she marched to the back of the room. With the respect she was receiving, she guessed that people had been paying close attention to her exchange with the bartender.

            She found the cloaked figure she was looking for in the corner as the bartender had promised. People gave the person a wide breadth of space like they would for someone of high stature. Sakura liked that.

            The person was sitting at a table with a vacant chair on the other side, so Sakura pulled it out and made herself comfortable.

            “So, _friend_ , what is it that you’re looking for today?” the cloaked figure asked. She noted that the emphasis on friend was void of genuineness and that the voice seemed to belong to a male.

            “I’ve heard a few rumors on which I’d like to follow up. A boy who wears the legendary sharingan has been seen around these parts, I hear?” she whispered roughly.

            For the briefest moment, her information dealer froze—something about what she said had alarmed him. Sakura guessed that this was probably the result of Itachi terrorizing more of the locals while in pursuit of her.

            The dealer leaned forward. “Huh. So you’ve heard. I think I’ve heard something similar. If we’ve both heard it, I suppose it has a better chance of being true, doesn’t it?” He was playing dumb and Sakura was not one for petty games.

            Now she was the one who leaned forward. Sakura hissed with no attempt to mask her voice, “Don’t fuck with me, needle-dick. I expect you to tell me what I need to know and then I’ll be happy to leave you to jerk your next doormat of a customer around.”

            He tensed further. “I would help if I could, but I honestly can’t. Not this time.” He was beginning to sound like a scared child.

“ _Good. He should be scared_ ,” Sakura thought wickedly.

            She leaned back in her chair with a roll of her eyes. Sakura could not believe that the information dealer of the seediest den in town was such a flop. After a moment’s contemplation about what to do next, she sighed with a smile.

            “Gee, it’s awfully warm in here with all of these tough guys filling up the room,” she announced loudly, “I guess I’ll just slip off my cloak for a bit.”

As promised, Sakura stood up and let her hood fall down her back—the whole bar went silent. She took the moment to run her left hand through her hair.

            Finally, a brave soul broke the silence with a shout of disbelief, “She’s fuckin’ crazy!”

That was all it took to set people in motion—chaos manifested in loud voices and nervous movements. However, as quick as they were to be rustled, they shut up even faster when Sakura’s fist shattered the table she had been sitting at into pieces.

            “Now, shut up and listen! A man with the sharingan passed through here—where can I find him?” she demanded with determined ferocity.

Her eyes scanned the crowd in a way that accused them each individually. Oddly enough, her angry demands had eased tense shoulders and quieted the panicked sheep. When her eyes landed on her destination, Sakura saw that her fun with the table had pushed even her information dealer out of his seat.

            The cloaked man spoke nervously, “Just relax! There was no need to cause such a damn scene! Let’s take this to the room in the back and I’ll tell you what I fuckin’ know, lady.”

The way he talked to her—his tone and his word choices—grated on her nerves in a way that was dangerous for his health.

            Sakura sent him a sideways glare and spat, “If you didn’t hold so much precious information, I would rip out your throat and fry it for dinner. Don’t mistake my compliance as weakness or even patience—you piss me off.”

With that being clear, Sakura straightened up and smiled, “Now let’s go have a pleasant chat like the good _friends_ we are.”

            Everyone in the room was still staring at the exchange despite the fact that calm had completely replaced the strain from moments ago. This was an odd bar—most places would have been a total riot after that scenario had just played out in front of them.

The bizarre reaction made her wonder how much the people here knew about her. They knew enough about her opponent to know that she was “fuckin’ crazy” to come so eagerly to his calling. Hopefully this knowledge meant that they would provide a plethora of useful information in exchange for her kindness—after all, it was very kind of her not to smash the entire bar to pieces instead of just the table.

            “This way.” The cloaked man walked past her toward a hallway that led further back into the bowels of the bar. If she had not been so confident in her abilities, this would have made her nervous. However, her life was worth too much to important people to be wasted—chances were that any bounty attached to her name would only pay off if she was captured alive.

            They arrived at the end of the shady hallway and stopped in front of a closed door.

            “Wait out here for a minute,” the man said before opening the door a crack, squeezing himself inside, and closing the door behind him again.

            Now her brow arched in bewilderment. What was going on in this place? Sakura would be damned if was going to wait out here for whatever he might come out with—or even worse, _who_ ever he might come out with.

            She was lifting her hand to reach for the doorknob just as it flung open and her information dealer barreled out. From beneath his cloak she spotted a pair of brown eyes gleaming with fear and a jaw slack from panting: he looked like a panicked animal running from a predator. That look set Sakura at immediate unease.

            Before she had time to react, he pushed her inside of the dark room and slammed the door shut behind her. She heard a loud click and realized that she had just been locked inside.

            Sakura chuckled heartily, “As if a wooden door could keep me in here. Too cute.”

            Just as she turned around to punch the door hard enough to send it into the next dimension, the room flickered with light and an alarming presence set off her radar. While her fight-or-flight instinct argued with itself over which route to take, she froze.

            “Long time, no see,” a male’s voice stated. It rang in a familiar timbre. Had she been lucky enough to be thrown in the same room as Itachi? It seemed too good to be true.

            Sakura rolled her eyes as she turned around with faux ease, “A few days isn’t really that—…”

            What she was seeing could not be reality—she was obviously hallucinating. It had been a long time since Sakura fought her way from the grips of madness brought on by her bereavement. Someone must have spiked her drink. She swore she ordered vodka, not absinthe.

            “It has been a long time, but that’s because you’ve been dead for many years now,” Sakura snorted, “Even if you’re not _really_ here, seeing your smug face still makes me want to throw you around enough to collapse this shithole.” She owed him more than a beating for what his selfishness had caused.

            “ _Count to five. Hell, count to ten if you have to_ ,” she told herself, “ _He’ll go away soon, just like he always did_.”

            He was comfortably draped across a twin-sized bed with his back resting against the wall. The small bed looked too tiny for his lanky body. He smiled his usual snarky smile.

“I should be dead. But our dear friend was unselfish to his very last moment; he gave what was left of his life to save mine just in time,” he laughed a little, “It was so like him to go and save me. An idiot to the very end.”

            Sakura’s vision clouded with red at this point; she experienced plenty of hallucinations like this years ago, but this one was provoking her to the point of mindless anger. Counting definitely was not working.

            In a flash, she was on the bed over her imagined friend of days long since passed. Each of her hands sprawled at the sides of his head, which rested comfortably against the wooden wall. Her fingers scratched with fury into its surface and she longed to launch one of her knees straddling his waist into his jaw. Her lips were drawn back into a feral snarl.

            “Shut up,” she commanded.

            He stated with a surprised smile, “So it did make you stronger.”

With a growl, Sakura determined that she was going to twist his neck right off of his shoulders. Just as she slackened her arms to choke him to oblivion, she found herself pushed backwards onto the bed.

Now she was the one being straddled. His hair hung down from gravity’s pull and tickled her face. This was the most bizarre hallucination she had ever experienced. Anything that held enough power to blur the lines between fantasy and reality was ferly, though.

Not wasting a second, Sakura lifted her knee right into his gut. As a result, he promptly crumpled over onto her—she had knocked the air from his lungs. After a moment of recovery, he straightened himself, but did not shift his position.

His voice was winded when he urged, “Sakura, I’m me. I’m real,” his brow furrowed, “I’ve been looking for you.” She could feel his breath on her face.

“You fucker,” she spat. In response, his eyes flashed red with the tell-tale swirling of the sharingan.

He may have had the sharingan, but he did not have tsukuyomi—he did not have what she sought. That was fine, though, because he was nothing more than an illusion, anyway.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Sakura. What can I do to get you to understand that I’m alive and real in this very room with you right now?” He was losing his patience—even in her hallucinations, he was so like himself. That was how they had always been.

Sakura was a bit bemused, though. Years of training fought off these illusions until they had stopped. So why was she experiencing one now? What could have triggered a psychological relapse?

“You would have to do something absurd and out of character, because whenever I imagine you like this, you’re always the same as your true self—a berating, irritable, and self-loving asshole. You are you. My hallucinations are frustratingly realistic,” she explained from a clinical disposition as if she were not the one hallucinating.

Still, his face hovered above hers. His brow furrowed in concentration as if he was contemplating what to do next. Sakura laughed—he really did look like a grown-up version of his old self. It was odd, but it was wonderful. He was delightfully handsome as a grown man. If he had actually lived to see that age, her life might have turned out differently.

“OK,” was all he said before he did something that was, indeed, very out of character.

He leaned close to Sakura’s face, allowed his eyelids to droop, and gently placed his lips on her own. His skin was soft and hot enough that she almost thought it was real as his lips connected to hers. It lasted for only a brief moment before he parted.

Sakura was stunned silent.

“Did that qualify as out of character?” he asked with a smug smirk.

Time passed as she lied there with her thoughts strewn about in utter disarray. His hover did not falter.

He stared blankly. “I assumed you’d died when you didn’t show up to stop us. You were always saving us from ourselves.”

When Sakura did not respond, he continued, “But then I heard whispers about a pink-haired girl causing a ruckus in rogue territory—and well, in rogue territory, causing a stir is quite a feat. My interest was piqued. After further inquiry, I discovered that this woman had devastated the earth and faced black fire without so much as a quiver.

“You fought him and lived.”

She laughed in a way that sounded close to hysterics. “I suppose I did, didn’t I? I lived. Isn’t that wild? Me? Living? It’s so strange sounding that I’m actually unconvinced,” Sakura cackled some more, “Because you know what? I feel very, _very_ dead.”

Deciding that she was finished with their current position, Sakura drew her knees to her chest, positioned the bottoms of her feet against his abdomen, and sent him flying into the wall as she straightened out her legs. In a flash, Sakura was standing with her right hand around his neck, pinning him to the wall into which she had flung him. Her hand tightened and her eyes flamed.

“You’ve changed,” he stated. His voice would have sounded sad if she had not known better.

Sakura responded with gelid emptiness, “It’s funny how much can change in five years. It’s even funnier when those five years are spent blindly fumbling in an attempt to find purpose after losing the two most important people in your life. It could have been the punchline to a comedian’s greatest joke.”

She spoke of jokes, but her voice held no humor.

“Now tell me, Sasuke. How are you still alive and where the _fuck_ have you been?” 


	6. Chapter 5: Liar, Liar

Sasuke gritted his teeth and hissed, “Like I said, Sakura—I thought you were dead. And I sure as hell wasn’t walking into Konoha to check to see if I was wrong.”

            “Of course you wouldn’t, Sasuke,” she sneered with disgust, “Going into Konoha to see if I was alive would have put your pretty self at risk. Your sense of camaraderie was never particularly impressive. But please, continue.” Her words were so poisonous that they tasted of potassium cyanide even in her own mouth.

            “When Naruto and I met again in the Valley of the End, we were both supposed to die. Even if neither of us admitted it, it was what we both intended. You know that. But, in good Naruto fashion, he gave me a parting gift instead of taking my life,” Sasuke explained and then chuckled like a person who had all of the answers, “He would rather have died than break his promise to you.”

            She hated that his lips had the capacity to say her best friend’s name with such disrespect. Sakura cocked her free arm and backhanded him just hard enough to convey her feelings on the subject—which meant that his cheekbone was probably fractured.

            Sasuke snarled, “Annoying as ever, Sakura. I didn’t expect less of you, but the next time you hit me, I’ll hit back.”

            “I’m scared,” she responded emptily. He narrowed his eyes at the insult.

“You’re not the only one who’s been training for the past several years, Sakura. I wasn’t sitting pretty—not that I could do anything without being pretty,” he added sarcastically, taking a jab at her preteen crush. If Sakura had been in a better mood, she might have laughed. Instead, her face remained as unmoving as stone. It was a strange role reversal from their times in Team 7.

            “I’m not feeling prone to laughter, Sasuke. You killed Naruto and are scaring old ladies in pursuit of me. Finish your story and then explain to me why you’ve made it a habit to terrorize the elderly,” Sakura stated dryly. Naruto was not dead, but she was disinclined to correct Sasuke’s misunderstanding on that subject.

            Sasuke laughed without humor. “I didn’t kill Naruto, Sakura—he killed himself to save me. When we were exchanging what was meant to be final blows, he gave me a portion his chakra and that’s what truly ended him. He wanted to help me carry out my goals no matter what.”

            Her grip on his neck loosened as she took it all in and her shoulders dropped as the tension fell out of them. It would be like Naruto to sacrifice himself for the wellbeing of Team 7—he wanted to guarantee that Sasuke would be alive to reunite with Sakura again someday. As much as it churned her stomach, their meeting like this was part of Naruto’s plan.

            Her arm dropped away from his throat as her eyes closed in grief. All these years later and she found that the loss of Naruto still stung like Itachi’s poison-tipped kunai. She wished that he could be there to see how much she had improved—but part of her knew that she might not have improved this much without his lapse into coma to push her over the cliff of insanity.

She gulped. “You hardly deserved his kindness.”

Despite all of her pain, she found that her eyes remained dry. She must have forgotten how to cry after all of these years.

Ignoring her, he continued, “When I awoke, I found that I’d been cared for by strangers in the countryside. I don’t know how I got there, but I never asked. I stayed there training for four years since there was no Sound Village to return to after killing Orochimaru.

“After those years, I decided that I was satisfied with my training and that it was time to restart my search for my brother. I’d been lying low and hopping from town to town when I heard about you…and Itachi. Now we’re here.”

Sakura’s resting eyes flashed open angrily at his last words, realizing his true intentions. He had not been looking for her at all—she should have known that he was being too friendly. What Sasuke really sought was information on his brother, which he presumed that she possessed.

He would certainly be in for a surprise when he discovered that she had no idea where Itachi might be. After all, her only lead had taken her to Sasuke instead.

            “Yes, you heard about me. So I’d been told. Somehow, I doubt that you were so bent on a reunion for the sake of the old days, though. So, why have you been hunting me down?” Sakura asked despite knowing the answer. She wanted to hear him say it with those soft, lying lips of his.

            Sasuke offered a small smile. “It was a relief to know that I wasn’t alone anymore.”

            She narrowed her eyes at the blatant lie.

            “I was impressed, too. Impressed that the flimsy girl you used to be had turned into someone seeking out battles with a feared criminal. It made me wonder about a lot of things: why did she fight him? How did she become so strong? Why is she still alive? Itachi only lets people live if he has a purpose for them, after all. But all those questions were trivial to the one that I found myself asking again and again, Sakura.”

            He stepped away from the wall and leaned in until his face was close enough for them to feel the heat of each other’s breath. His eyes peered into hers and his sharingan swirled in a way that left her unable to look elsewhere.

            “I wondered if she would still hold to her promise from when we were twelve—her promise that she would do anything for me,” Sasuke finished breathily. His gaze still held hers like a child hanging onto his favorite toy.

            Sakura thought that he might have been asking her a question, but all she could think about was the swirling red in front of her. The swirl was slow and comfortable—it drew her in like a vortex.

            “Would you join me in pursuit of Itachi, Sakura? Would you tell me everything you know?” Sasuke urged in a gentle voice that she had never heard him use before. It was gentle like the slow dance of his eyes. The music to which they danced called to her.

            _Say yes, Sakura._

            “Of course, Sasuke. Anything for you.”

            Her voice sounded harshly mechanical compared to the song in her head—she did not want to speak aloud again lest she interrupt it.

            He smiled. “Good girl.”

            At that, her head snapped to alert—there was no more music and she looked away from his eyes. She _hated_ being called that.

            “What did you just do?” she demanded.

            Sasuke stepped back and raised his hands to show that he meant no harm before answering, “I just asked if you would help me in my quest for revenge. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His eyes were no longer red with the sharingan, but instead black and wide with what Sakura suspected was faux innocence.

            Before responding, she considered the potential benefits of forming an alliance with him. He was probably better at tracking Itachi than she was. He had plenty of experience as a missing nin and could give her some pointers on how to stay unnoticed. Those were two decent reasons, but something bigger nudged at her: this was an opportunity to get back part of her past that she thought she had lost for good.

Was this moment not the one for which Naruto had sacrificed himself?

            That last question alone made her want to commit herself without further thought, but something stopped her before she could open her mouth to say the words.

            “ _He’ll get in my way_ ,” she thought.

            He would get in the way of what Sakura wanted—she sought to experience the tsukuyomi before killing Itachi. Then, she wanted to slaughter him as revenge for the fatal fracture he sent through Team 7 and ultimately her innocence. She had warped into something so cold after simultaneously losing Naruto and Sasuke; Itachi was the root of that loss.

It then occurred to Sakura that she had taken the same path of revenge as Sasuke had. However, instead of seeking to kill Itachi for the honor of the Uchiha clan, she had her own reasons. Now that he was standing here and asking her to take revenge with him, the idea ceased to have the same appeal as it had for the past five years. Something about his offer was different from the path that she had carved out for herself. After a moment, Sakura realized what it was: if she were to join Sasuke, she would have to share the revenge she sought with him.

            She would have killed for this opportunity when she was twelve. How foolish Sakura was as a child.

            “You’re taking an awfully long time to decide, Sakura,” Sasuke stated with a hint of accusation in his voice.

            Quickly snapping out of thought, Sakura offered a columbine smile and ruffled her hair. “I’m sorry—it’s just hard to take in that not only are you alive, but also that you’re asking me a question I’ve only ever dreamed you would ask. Of course I’ll join you, Sasuke. We’re what’s left of Team 7—we’re family.” Her lie came so easily that it sounded like the truth even to her own ears.

            Sasuke quickly masked his brief look of relief with one of his old smirks.

            “Well, let’s get down to business, then. Since I answered your questions, could you answer a few of mine? I’m still curious about your encounter with Itachi,” he explained.

            Sakura sat on the bed and responded, “Sure, Sasuke. What would you like to know?”

            He sat down next to her and began, “Why were you looking to kill him?”

            “You’re so sure that he wasn’t the one there to kill me,” she jested to buy an extra second of thought before she continued, “I wanted to carry out the revenge that you hadn’t been able to. I thought you were dead, after all.” The right lies came so effortlessly that she wondered if she was really the one in control of her speech.

            “Of course.” Sasuke smiled a little. “Thank you for that—it’s a relief to know that if I’d gone that someone would have carried on my final wish for me. I always knew you were the loyal type, Sakura. Still, I can’t help but wonder…why are you still alive?”

            Sakura’s neck hair prickled as she sensed something dark stirring on the bed next to her—this question had more value than he was revealing.

            Sakura stuttered, “W-what do you mean?” This was the first truth to escape her mouth since they began speaking business; she was sincerely bewildered by his question.

            “What I mean is that Itachi only leaves people alive when he has a purpose for them. Why are you still breathing?” he forced through clenched teeth. This sounded more like the Sasuke that she remembered—angry and dangerous. She found that she preferred his venomous honesty over the rich lies that he had been feeding her up until now.

            “I honestly don’t know, Sasuke. I’ve been asking myself the same thing since the moment he disappeared from our battlefield. If it’s any help, though, he had no idea who I was,” Sakura offered. Another truth—the same question had been poking her brain like a hungry pet’s pestering at dinnertime ever since the incident; she really had no idea why the fight had not ended in death or at least incapacitation.

            At that, the tension eased its way out of Sasuke’s shoulders and he responded, “Well, the fact that you’re still alive can mean nothing good for you. But, it’ll work to our benefit, as he’s probably hoping to encounter you again in the future after you’ve served whatever purpose he has in mind for you. Will you be ready when that time comes?”

            Sakura scoffed, “I survived battling with him once, didn’t I? I’m not the girl you left behind when we were twelve.”

            “ _In fact, I’m not the girl who was drugged by Kakashi to sleep through your battle with Naruto when I was sixteen, either. I was always the one left behind—but now that we’re in a different time and place, I think that you’re the one who might have catching up to do_ ,” she finished defiantly in her head.

            “I would hope not,” Sasuke replied dryly.

            Sakura’s eye twitched in irritation. “Don’t piss me off too much, Sasuke. I might accidentally kill you if you do.”

            He laughed, but she was not joking.

“So, where do we head from here?” she asked to change the subject.

“To a hotel. I’m assuming that you have a little recuperation to do from your battle and this alcoholic sewer isn’t really the place for that.”

As much as Sakura would not mind having a bar within a few stumbling steps of her bed, she wanted something a little softer than the rock of a mattress that she was sitting on at the moment. As a missing nin, she would not be able to enjoy small luxuries for long, so she was going to embrace any such opportunity that presented itself.

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Sakura agreed as she lifted herself from the bed. If she seemed like she was in a hurry to snuggle a soft down comforter, then she was not misrepresenting herself.

            Sasuke smirked at her eagerness and followed in suit. He went to the corner of the room to pick up his katana, walked to the door, and opened it as if it had never been locked. Sakura did not even bother to question it.

Before exiting, he paused and looked away. “We’re going to have to pretend that we’re a honeymooning couple. That way we can hop from inn to inn without arousing suspicion. Since you’re not in Konoha, I’m going to go ahead and guess that you’re probably on the missing nin list, as well. Criminals aren’t thought of as hanging around hotels, so we’ll be hiding comfortably in the open.”

That sounded like a heavenly plan that involved good meals, hot baths, and cushy beds—it did not get much better than that. Not when you were a criminal, anyway.

“That doesn’t sound like an awful way to float above the radar,” Sakura approved.

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and strode through the door. What was originally him dragging her turned into an evenly matched stride by the time they reached the main part of the bar.

By the curious looks they were receiving, Sakura guessed that the hand-grab was meant to be a nonverbal gesture to their onlookers saying that he had been searching for her because they were lovers and that he had no need to be coming back here. It was a fair explanation and would hopefully stamp out any remaining interest in their existence.

They avoided eye contact with anyone around them and headed straight for the front door. As they passed through the exit and into the dark night, she noticed how they were holding hands: his fingers and thumb were wrapped around the outside of her palm. It was a minute detail to notice, but she felt relieved—if they had been holding hands with their fingers entwined, it would have felt wrong. After all, something like that would have been far too intimate.

Even liars had their limits in the precarious game of weaving deceit.


	7. Chapter 6: Garden of Eden

When they arrived at the hotel, their presence did not arouse any suspicion—even with Sasuke's conspicuous weapon. Any worry that its blade might have brought was easily remedied by their good looks and acting skills. The woman at the desk even commented on what a lovely couple they made.

As they opened the door to their room, Sakura took in the setting and froze.

"Uhhh…" she audibly hesitated.

The situation made sense, but that did not make her like it.

Sasuke snorted, "Quit stuttering—you can have the bed. I probably won't be sleeping much, anyway."

Sakura's shoulders dropped in relief.

Of course Sasuke would not sleep much. He probably would not find rest until he killed Itachi.

"I'm going to get some supplies from around the area tonight," he announced, "Is there anything you need?" Sasuke tried to hide it, but Sakura caught his eyes wandering to her back where she had been injured. Attentiveness was definitely a gift of the sharingan.

"Healing ointment and gauze. I already have some, but I'd rather save my supplies for when we're on the go. My wounds aren't bad enough to waste my quality materials on, anyway," Sakura explained as she walked toward the bed. She found herself yearning to collapse into the undisturbed blankets; they carefully wrapped the mattress like a present.

Sasuke inquired after assessing her appearance, "How long before you make a full recovery?"

Sakura contemplated for a moment before answering, "If I can get the supplies sometime tonight, I should be ready by late tomorrow afternoon." The wounds on her back may have been ugly, but they were simple to take care of in comparison to what she could have walked away with—if she was lucky enough to walk away at all at that point.

"So, you're not useless after all," he chuckled. Without waiting to hear her response, he disappeared out the door and shut it soundlessly behind him.

A hollow thud reverberated as Sakura's kunai sunk into the wood of the door, landing right where his head should have been. Sasuke was smart to have taken leave so quickly after his redundant provocation. Surely, the sound of the dagger making home in the door would give him something to smirk about as he walked through town tonight.

Shaking off Sasuke's petty insult, Sakura turned around and hurled herself at the bed without caring if her head hit the pillow. He could wake her when he returned.

* * *

 

_Her labored breathing came to a halt as she saw him zip across the clearing. He was coming for her at long last. His determination shone so rigidly on his face that he was certainly going to kill her. And that was okay. She deserved it, after all. She would be able to rest more easily when her dues had been paid. He had every reason to hate her after—_

Sakura woke with a startle to find her hand lazily swatting at whoever had the nerve to bother her at this hour. Whatever hour it was, it was too early.

"Sakura, I brought the things you requested along with some food."

"Ughhnn," she groaned. She hoped that her growl passed as coherent enough for him to stop pestering her. She heard footsteps cross the room and sighed a breath of relief at her success.

However, her comfort was short-lived. Without warning, sunlight flooded the room and invaded the lids of her eyes before she could shield herself from the sun's rident assault.

"Sakura, it's the afternoon," he chided with an audible smirk, "I never knew you were so lazy."

Her eyes snapped open as she forced herself to look alert; she would not appear lazy in front of anyone, but especially not in front of Sasuke. He hardly needed more fuel with which to berate her; she refused to allow him such pleasure.

"I'll still be ready to go by late this afternoon," Sakura stated icily. She would not be a burden. In fact, over the course of their time together, she found herself driven to showcase how much of a success she had become. She might have lacked titles to go with it, but she was skilled where and when it counted.

Blinking the urge to sleep from her eyes, Sakura took in the room around her—it was bright with orange sunlight glazing the plain walls and warm bed. As Sasuke gazed out the large window to her left, his face wore a serene lull of comfort and content. It was so peaceful that it made Sakura want to lower every inner shield that she had built over the past five years. But, the wisdom that came with knowing better was another thing she had acquired over that span of time.

His serenity was a deceptive lure used to weaken his enemies just before he bared his poisonous fangs. He was a volatile snake at his core.

Sakura broke their precarious silence. "Sasuke, I'll go patch myself up in the bathroom. Why don't you catch some sleep? I'd hate for you to hold us back from exhaustion down the road." She could have omitted the last line, but she knew that he would ignore her if she left it at a suggestion.

Without taking his eyes away from the window, Sasuke spoke, "You know I can't sleep. I won't be able to sleep until I see him close his eyes for good. And besides, haven't you heard? There's no rest for the wicked."

She silently agreed with him. Chances were that Sasuke would not know the meaning of restful sleep until the day he died. Sakura wondered if he secretly longed for that day—and she hoped that he did not actively seek it more than he let on. Not after what Naruto sacrificed in order for him to continue living.

 _Naruto._  The two of them had always managed to make things more complex than they needed to be—anything from simple missions to the choices between life and death and murder. Now that Sasuke was back, all of the lines were blurred again.

"What was the last thing he said?" Sakura asked quietly before clarifying, "Naruto, I mean."

Sasuke chuckled. "He called me a bastard and his best friend. And then he dramatically insisted, 'This isn't the end.' Tch. Idiot." As usual, Sasuke thought he knew better when he did not.

"He may not have been the brightest, but he was the best friend any person could've ever hoped for," Sakura defended.

A weight was settling into the pit of her stomach and she did not like it. Talking about Naruto's final words and sacrifice awoke a sense of something that she had not felt to anyone in a long, long time: she felt indebted to Naruto. She was a guilty accomplice in what brought about the end of his liveliness. How would that alter the path that she had chosen up until this point?

Sasuke now scowled at the outside world. "I never asked for friends."

"Isn't it unfortunate that, over the course of  _wanton_  life, we don't always get what we want?" Sakura asked aloud. In a different time and place, this might have implied that she was his friend and he had to deal with it. However, in the present, she was only echoing the past in more ways than one.

Her words were so similar to  _his_ that she found her arm hairs standing on end. Perhaps Itachi had been right, after all. Sasuke would probably unhinge if he knew whose words she had used to berate him.

A darker side of her wanted to see what that would look like.

" _All in due time_ ," she reminded herself.

Sasuke scoffed, "Why wait to get what you want when you can just take it?" He said it like it was the most obvious discrepancy in the world.

"Because not all things can simply be taken, Sasuke."

When she was a child, she waited to receive Sasuke's love—that was something that could not be taken. Over time, this want faded into the background of her mind and eventually dissolved into her insanity's all-consuming abyss.

His love never came and here she was waiting to behold the tsukuyomi instead—she waited for yet another feeling that could not be taken. She sought to experience the death of reality in the form of more pain than the human mind could handle. Through death, she might remember what it was like to be alive again. She wanted to push herself over the edge just to see if she could survive the fall.

"Anything that can't be taken isn't worth wanting," Sasuke retorted.

Sakura had no will to provide a counterargument for this one and decided to leave him be. They would always be different; this was just one of many instances where that stark difference was underscored in their words more blatantly than usual.

Sakura's mellifluous laugh tinkled in the tense air. "Believe what you will—not that you wouldn't anyways. I may have changed a lot since we last met, but it seems that you haven't changed at all. Just as I expected." She waved her hand at him before he could get offended. "It's just who you are, Sasuke. I'm going to take care of my wounds. Why don't you catch that nap you were telling me about?"

A devious grin consumed Sakura's features at her own question. She tried to hide it, but she had never honed a strong poker-face. Scanning the room for an escape route, she noticed a sack on the nightstand next to her—it likely contained her food and supplies. With the celerity of a well-trained shinobi, she grabbed the sack and darted for the bathroom. As quickly as she arrived, she closed the door behind her.

Every part of her wanted to sit down for a moment and mull over their conversation, but she knew that she had a lot of work to get done in a short period of time. Sakura took a deep breath and resolved to finish her work as quickly as possible. Grateful that the sink was surrounded by a spacious counter, she spilled out the contents of the bag onto its surface.

Out tumbled an apple, a tin of healing ointment, a roll of body bandages, a container of lukewarm beef ramen, and chopsticks. Sakura lifted the apple and took a hearty bite without bothering to inspect its health—she had woken up hungry and she could not resist the temptation to feel its skin break beneath her ravenous teeth. It took only a few short moments for Sakura to devour the apple down to its core. Setting the core back down on the counter, she then ate the contents of the beef ramen until she felt sufficiently full.

Having fed herself, she began to remove all of her clothing in order to inspect her wounds in the mirror. Throughout her assessment, she found that Itachi had littered her body with bruises, scrapes, and shallow cuts. However, those wounds were inconsequential compared to what she found on her back: the poison from the kunai had killed all of the skin cells with which it had come into contact. Luckily, it seemed that her muscular tissue had been spared beyond the simple cutting power of the blades.

Sakura's eyes widened as she recognized the purpose of the poison's mechanism. If she ever wanted to doubt her own medical training, now was the time. However, Tsunade had told her about rare poisons that worked as this one did.

This poison killed the skin with the intent to infiltrate the body so that it would be delivered to the bloodstream even if the blade failed to cut deeply enough. Its purpose was to delve through to the subcutaneous tissues containing the blood vessels supplying the skin. Since it did not damage anything else, this poison was clearly meant for one purpose: to incapacitate the victim, but keep them alive and relatively unharmed. If she had allowed it to stay in her bloodstream, it probably would have done nothing more injurious than putting her to sleep.

"Why would he want to keep me alive?" Sakura quietly murmured to herself as she stared wide-eyed at the three purple gashes splashed across her back.

This discovery was to her advantage, but it still managed to put her every nerve on alert.

Attempting to shake off the settling anxiety, she reached both of her hands around her lower back and allowed them to glow with her green healing chakra. The cooling sensation eased her pain away and calmed some of her tension.

_Itachi only leaves people alive when he has a purpose for them._

That line scratched through her head like a broken record over and over again as she spent the next two hours mending the ugly wounds that decorated her back. And then, it replayed for another hour after that while she carefully bandaged her torso. She did not want to reverse any of her hard work as they travelled over the upcoming days, so she was especially attentive to her wrapping technique.

As Sakura began to dress herself again, she had the unsettling sense that she was going to learn more about Itachi Uchiha than she had ever been interested in knowing. She knew that, sooner than later, she would find out why those daggers had been tipped with the intention to contain rather than the intention to kill.


	8. Chapter 7: Lay Me Down to Speak

When she opened the bathroom door, Sasuke stood as still as stone at the window, looking as if he had never moved. In fact, the entire room looked as if it had been frozen in the time she had used to heal and bandage herself.

            “Did you take a nap?” she inquired as a mother would to her child. Sakura found that she enjoyed irritating him.

            Sasuke rolled his eyes. “If you really must know, I did catch a few minutes of sleep. Better to sleep here than in a tree somewhere if my lead takes off.”

So, that meant he must have had an idea of where they would be heading next. As predicted, he had impressive skill in tracking his older brother’s movements.

            “Great!” Sakura exclaimed at her success, “I’m all healed up and ready to go.” With a brilliant smile, she shot her hands into the air as a display of her reclaimed limberness and energy.

            Shifting his eyes from the outside world to look at her, Sasuke responded, “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of wounds did you have on your back there? You covered your faltering gait pretty well, but I could tell that the injuries were much worse than you were revealing.”

            “ _It’s probably better that he doesn’t know about the poison_ ,” Sakura thought to herself.

Keeping some information tucked away would offer an advantage down the road—especially if he turned out to be as untrustworthy as he had been in the past. Plus, she could claim ignorance if he ever brought it up. Sasuke always underestimated her intellect and abilities, anyway.

            Waving her hand with a carefree laugh, she replied, “Oh, just kunai wounds. I’d say that I got pretty lucky considering what _could_ have happened.” For a brief moment, it occurred to Sakura that they had probably exchanged more lies than truths in their short time together so far.

            His face spoke of silent agreement with her statement. Even if she had already showed him that she had grown since their last meeting, he would never believe that she had a true chance in winning against his older brother. If he had not managed to complete his goal yet, then certainly _Sakura_ , the crying girl from Team 7, would not be able to defeat Itachi.

With no further questions, he checked for his katana at his side, scanned the room for anything out of place, and assessed her figure with a coldness that indicated it as a calculating measure rather than an affectionate one. He seemed convinced of her good health and ready to go.

            Reading his body language, Sakura headed for the door and he followed. All without much ado, they exited the room, walked down the hallway to the lounge, and waved goodbye to the receptionist. Wordlessly, they walked into the late afternoon sunshine of the bustling town.

            As they wove through pedestrian traffic in comfortable silence, Sakura realized that her kunai had disappeared from the door.

            She chuckled to herself, “ _Hopefully it won’t be used against me someday_.”

            Even though it was strange to laugh at seemingly nothing, she allowed it to echo unsuppressed. After all, who knew? It might be her last chance to genuinely laugh ever again.

As she chortled to herself, Sasuke did not ask what she was laughing about.

 

* * *

 

            The sun had long since fallen and the moon rose to take its place. It was a clear night and, now that they were away from light pollution, the stars were arranged in a brilliant display.

            Finally breaking hours’ worth of frigid silence, Sakura asked, “So, where are we heading? I’m going to guess that you got some directions while we were in town. Anything good?” She hoped he would reveal the information he had gleaned from the sewer scum dealers back there, but she sensed that she would only get a half-truth if she was lucky enough to get anything at all.

            “We’re heading to a place outside of Suna, still in rogue territories. There, we’ll find one of two things: more information or my brother himself,” Sasuke explained.

Itachi’s conspicuousness confirmed her hunch that he was not hiding from them—he was hoping to spark another encounter. If he had not wanted to be found, chances were that they would not even have a lead. It would have turned into an endless game of hide-and-seek in which the seekers were blindfolded and the hider silently hopped from one cubbyhole to the next.

            Sakura paused. “How likely is the latter?” Depending on the reliability of his sources, he might lean one way or another—a good source offered a better chance of the information being true.

            “I never get my hopes up,” he replied with cool stoicism. Sakura knew better, though—if he had reason not to get his hopes up, then he thought there was a good chance of them encountering Itachi when they arrived at their destination. This thought made her every nerve buzz with excitement.

            “Of course not,” she pushed forward in an effort to continue casual conversation, “You seem to be good at tracking people. You know. First _me_ and now Itachi. Well, I’m sure you’ve always been good at tracking him. But, how did you hear about our battle?”

            “I’m guessing that we tracked Itachi to the same location—in the Land of Fire, but outside of Konoha. We both knew he was there, but you got to him first. I didn’t move fast enough. I was taking my time because I’d assumed it was a dud lead. As I was passing through a small village nearby, I heard that he was already gone after having fought with a pink-haired earthquake,” he chuckled and continued, “I’d have assumed you were dead if it wasn’t specifically mentioned that neither had fallen. Everyone was amazed—you made quite a name for yourself from that incident.”

            Sakura’s brows furrowed in a combination of concentration and confusion. Firstly, she did not like that such a story about her had been the hot topic of a village—it did not bode well with someone who was accustomed to being comfortably nobody and had since turned into a missing nin. Secondly and most importantly, she did not understand how such a rumor came to spread. There had been no witnesses to her battle to tell the tale—not even Itachi’s shark-faced partner had been nearby. Sure, people would have seen the dust clouds and firebombs from miles away, but Sakura was certain that there was nobody on the premises during the actual affair.

            Trying to stay nonchalant, Sakura inquired with faux absent-mindedness, “Do you know where these rumors started? I mean, sure, our battle was pretty destructive of the surrounding area, but we weren’t that close to a town or anything. I guess I’m just embarrassed that I caused such a ruckus.”

            For a tense moment, Sasuke was as quiet as an empty graveyard. As she waited, Sakura could feel her adrenaline kicking into overdrive.

            “I’m sure it was just a passerby who sprinted in the opposite direction once he realized what he’d almost walked into.” Sasuke’s lie was so empty that even he sounded unconvinced—a stumbling third party does not go unnoticed when there are only two people in the warzone. If somebody was there, it was no accident.

            Sakura scratched her head with a smile. “Of course, that makes sense. Ha! Can you imagine how scared he must have been? That would have been one ugly to scene to fall upon—Itachi Uchiha facing a girl who was cracking craters into the Earth. He must’ve booked out of there like no tomorrow!”

Even if Sakura was just following through with his lie, she did find the imagery entertaining. Plus, it seemed that her feigned ignorance seemed to put whatever darkness was brewing in Sasuke at ease.

            He wore a small smirk and added, “I’ll bet he ruined his clothes.”

Now Sakura pictured a man with soggy bottoms scrambling away from the destruction and her forced laughter morphed into something more natural. Its tintinnabulation rang through the cool nighttime air.

            This was what camaraderie felt like: two old friends laughing together despite their dangerous mission. It felt delightful, but it was all wrong—Naruto was not here, they were both missing nin, and they had exchanged so many lies to get to where they were that even the truth was questionable at this point. This moment was a flower that had sprung up from a pile of composting feces.

            Sasuke abruptly stopped walking and turned to look at her. His face grew serious despite their previous jocosity and he averted his eyes away from her before speaking.

            “I really did miss you, Sakura.”

It was a lie spoken with such intensity that it oozed verisimilitude. Even though Sakura knew better, she found that her face still softened at the words she would have once died to hear—and, in an ironic way, she _had_ died to hear them. She had to kill every bit of who she once was to end up in this moment.

            Sakura offered a small smile before responding, “I really missed you, too.”

At least her lie held a tiny half-truth—she really had missed him in the beginning. But, after years of him being gone, she had learned how to be alone.

            Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Sakura broke the impending silence, “Why don’t we quicken our pace? The faster we get there, the better chance we have of catching him.” A change of topic left her feeling relieved.

            He nodded to signify his assent. Rushing to catch a sitting target was unnecessary, but they were both too anxious for the upcoming encounter to rest any longer.

            “Let’s race,” Sasuke challenged with a smug smirk.

            Throwing her arms to her sides, Sakura exclaimed in exasperation, “But I don’t even know how to get to where we’re going!”

            Sasuke shrugged. “Well, I guess that means that you lose by default, then.” In an effort to ensure his victory, he sprinted off to give himself a head-start.

            Sakura stomped in agitation and inadvertently crumbled the patch of earth beneath her foot.

            “You cheating bastard! This doesn’t count as you winning!” she yelled after him.

            Not wanting to waste another moment, she huffed loudly and sped off to catch up.

 

* * *

 

            “Sasuke!” she called out, “Are you there?”

            Her nerves were starting to tingle uncomfortably. She had lost his chakra signal an hour ago and had been running in what she hoped was the right direction ever since. There was too much uncertainty in her current situation for her to feel at ease.

            Sakura’s breathing was becoming a little quicker than she liked and her heart rate had already doubled. Deciding that she could not deal with the panic anymore, she came to an abrupt halt to steady herself.

            “I’ll just climb a tree and get a good look at what’s around here. Maybe Sasuke’s battling with Itachi a few miles ahead. If so, that’s something I’d definitely be able to see from afar,” Sakura whispered to herself. The sun was starting to come up, so she would have that to aid her vision.

            She scanned the surrounding forest for a tall tree and found the perfect candidate only a few steps away. Sending chakra to her feet, she sprung herself onto the tree’s lowest branch; it was thick and sturdy, so she did not worry that it would collapse under her weight.  Using her chakra again, Sakura nimbly swung herself up to the next branch above her and then to the branch above that.

            At this point, she was about three-fourths of the way up the tree and the branches were becoming weaker. Deciding that she needed to take the rest of the way a little more slowly, she reached up to the next branch without using her chakra.

As Sakura stretched her left arm above her, she suddenly saw it fly backwards as if an invisible force had pushed it. In a too-short moment, she sent chakra to her feet to save herself from falling and found herself dangling from the branch upside-down—whatever had knocked into her hand had held a lot of force behind it.

When her head jerked to look at her gloved appendage, her heart stopped—she was too late this time. The kunai that had lodged itself into her palm would have its poison delivered to her nervous system in a hand-basket when her shocked heart took its next beat.

_Bah-dump._ And there it went.

Her muscles became loose and the chakra withdrew from her feet. Her control over her limbs had vanished; Sakura closed her eyes and hoped that she would not die from the fall.

Instead of taking a speedy nosedive toward the ground, she felt herself floating slowly to the forest floor. When she gathered enough courage to open her eyes, Sakura discovered that she had landed in a soft bed of midnight down. While this should have lulled her into a state of comfort, she wished desperately that her body possessed the mobility necessary for her to thrash about.

A slew of curses sprung from her mouth as Sakura determined that she was paralyzed from the neck down. The person who put her in this undesirable condition would arrive to examine his handiwork any moment now and there was nothing she could do to defend herself. The feathers she lied on warned her that she was trapped in a genjutsu, but she could not move her arms to form the hand seal needed to dispel it.

In a nightmare-come-true, Itachi suddenly stood at her feet like an unwelcome apparition. As usual, his face was untelling, his body was languid, and his sharingan swirled with red. As she lied there, she knew that the hunter had become the hunted.

“Your name is Sakura,” he stated.

She wanted to respond with silence, but she found that her lips moved anyway. “Yes. My name is Sakura Haruno.”

“Why did you want to battle me?” he inquired. His voice was smooth and he spoke with the slowness of someone who had all of the time in the world.

Even though she resisted, it seemed that whatever jutsu in which he had trapped her also forced the truth to flow more freely than it would in the natural world.

“I wanted to experience the tsukuyomi and then I wanted to kill you.”

Nearly going cross-eyed at her own words, she thought, “ _Profess that you wish to kill him while you lie incapacitated on the forest floor. Great idea! Way to go, Sakura!_ ”

Looking down into her eyes, Itachi asked, “Why do you want to be taken into the tsukuyomi?”

“I’ve heard that it is the most treacherous torture that a human can be forced to endure.”

At this, his brow furrowed in a way that appeared to be concern, but was probably just confusion. The bewilderment left Sakura delighted, though—she would have never thought that she would be able to trip up Itachi Uchiha and, even further, to have done so by simply telling the truth. Sakura had just obtained the unobtainable.

“Why did you want to kill me?” His questioning continued.

“To prove myself and finish Sasuke’s conquest for him. Those were small reasons, though. I mostly wanted to kill you out of my own personal revenge. If you hadn’t driven Sasuke mad, I might have led a happy life.” Her voice was mechanical despite all of the emotion and meaning held in her message.

“ _A happy life_ ,” she thought, “ _It’s too late for that now_.”

His pause between questions lingered longer this time than it had previously. Sakura hoped it meant that her words had affected him, but she accepted that it probably just meant that he was deciding how to use the information to his advantage.

Taking in a breath, Itachi asked in a finalistic tone, “Sakura, why do you seek to battle me now?”

She really wished she could be released from this interrogation genjutsu.

“I don’t know.”

Even though they were her own words uttered from her own mouth, Sakura found herself surprised at her answer. Sure, things had been muddled by recent circumstances, but she was certain that she had just… lied.

Itachi’s head snapped to alert and he announced in unabridged wonderment, “I’ve never had someone successfully fight my genjutsu before.” He chuckled emptily “Impressive. It’s certainly more than my brother’s had to offer on our battlefield three miles north of here.”

“You’re battling Sasuke right now?!” Sakura exclaimed in panic. She was relieved at her renewed control of her speech, even if her excitement was optimistically premature.

“He really is just as distractible as when he was a small child,” Itachi stated wryly before changing the subject, “One last thing before I let you go and allow you to decide the turnout of our battle, though...”

For someone so calculating and logical, he was suddenly making very little sense. She might have gained skills and strength beyond measure, but she doubted her ability to be the deciding factor in battle between two powerful Uchihas—even though she would certainly try.

“…I’m sorry, Sakura.”

 Before she could respond, he was gone and the jutsu began to fade away into the natural forest. The kunai disappeared from her hand and she found that she was able to move her limbs again—it had all been a part of the genjutsu. Even though she was tempted to dwell on their conversation, she knew that she could do one better: Sakura was ready to join the Uchiha brothers on the battlefield.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everybody! Welcome to my alternate-plotline, Naruto fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed the prologue! I have some general warnings about what to expect from the remainder of the fic.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Use, Sensitive Themes (e.g., trauma)
> 
> I figured I'd give everybody a fair warning of what to expect before they dove in. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> A


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